Little prods in her side, her stomach, and her bottom. She whirled around in whichever direction the digs came from, always too late to grab the offending hand. Quickly, Claire was so dizzy she almost fell. She was tempted to snatch the bandana from her eyes, but she knew if she did that, they might not initiate her. Just then, a quiet fell over the room and she had a sense that people were gesturing. Were they planning to leave her here overnight and lock the door? But then the room filled with low rhythmic chanting. It sounded like it was coming from a stereo rather than the girls themselves and, despite her fear, she suppressed a chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.

‘Claire Sharpe,’ came Charlotte’s voice over the chanting. ‘Do you swear your complete loyalty to the Queen Bees, to keep all club information to yourself, and complete this secret initiation challenge? If so, say “I do.”’

Another challenge?

‘I do,’ replied Claire, keen not to have been caught hesitating.

‘Queen Bees, do you accept Claire Sharpe as our new member of the Queen Bees and swear to trust and protect her at all times?’

‘We do,’ the room chorused in unison.

‘Queen Bees, are you ready to subject Claire Sharpe to her final challenge?’ Charlotte’s voice was rising and Claire felt a shift in energy in the room around her.

‘Yes,’ screamed the girls.

‘Ready, steady, go!’ cried Charlotte.

Claire tensed her shoulders, curled her hands into fists and braced herself. But the impact never came. Instead, she felt a light fluttering around her, like streamers at a party.

What on earth was happening?

‘Don’t forget her legs,’ cried one girl.

Vivian?

And just then she felt a paper material across the back of her legs.

Were they tying her up?

But it felt too flimsy to hold her down. Managing to sneak a feel with her right hand, she guessed it was toilet paper. They were covering her from head to toe in toilet paper and Claire relaxed slightly.

Suddenly, the room was still again. There was another whisper of giggles and she felt disorientated. Someone was removing her blindfold and she wiggled her head, desperate for it to be off. As she blinked, the first thing she saw were the masks. They veiled each girl, transforming them into a jeering, eerie clan. Each mask was a different colour but there was one that was strikingly distinctive, and she knew it was Charlotte’s. It was deceptively simple – a black brocade eye mask enhanced with crystals around the cut-out eyes. What made it magnificent was the surrounding black netting, punctuated with diamond studs, feathers, and lace.